"Lost in the echoes of silent goodbyes,

She walks a path with tear-stained eyes.

A stranger's arms, a promise untold,

In fate's embrace, her story unfolds."

VIHAN's POV

The wedding hall was filled with the scent of fresh roses, their petals scattered along the white marble floor. The golden chandeliers cast a soft glow over the guests, their hushed whispers blending with the distant melody of the violin playing in the background. But amidst the grandeur, my eyes remained fixated on her.

Saisha.

Draped in a crimson-red bridal lehenga, she looked breathtaking—yet distant. Her face was pale despite the heavy makeup, her lips curved into a forced smile that didn't reach her eyes. She was good at hiding her emotions, at masking her true feelings behind a facade of indifference. But I could see through it. I always could.

Every time our gazes met, she quickly looked away, as if afraid of what she might see in my eyes. I knew what she was thinking—that this was just a deal. A contract. A necessity, not a choice.

And that thought made me feel pathetic.

As I slid the ring onto her delicate finger, a vow settled deep within me. I promise to give you the world, Saisha. Everything you deserve. Even if you don't see it now, I'll make sure one day you do.

The sacred fire burned between us, its flames crackling as we took our pheras, each step binding us together in a way she hadn't accepted yet—but I had.

She was finally mine.

Or rather, I was all hers.

As I looked at her one last time before the priest announced us husband and wife, I let those words sink in.

Saisha Vihan Khurana.

My everything

SAISHA's POV:

The day had descended into night, the stars faintly visible against the inky sky. The wedding ceremony was finally over. Exhausted, I was escorted to a beautifully decorated room, my supposed resting place for the night. But rest was the last thing on my mind. My heart felt heavy, my mind overwhelmed. I was married. The realization sent a shiver down my spine. I wasn't Saisha Saksena anymore. My identity, my name—everything had changed within a few sacred vows and rituals.

I didn't expect anything from my so-called husband or his family. Why would I? My own family had always made me feel like I was nothing but a burden, an omen of misfortune. But while performing the wedding rituals, I couldn't help but notice how different his family was. They seemed happy, radiant, full of life—so unlike us. Yet, I had learned the hard way never to judge a book by its cover. Appearances were deceiving, and I was terrified of what lay ahead.

As I sat on the edge of the grand bed, my fingers nervously twisting the end of my dupatta, my thoughts spiraled into the unknown. Soon, I would have to leave—leave behind the only world I knew and step into his, a world unfamiliar, unwelcoming. A world where I would be nothing more than a stranger. I prepared myself for the worst. Hope was a dangerous thing, one I had long abandoned. If he hurt me, if he raised his hand against me, I knew no one would come to my aid. My family had already forsaken me in the name of marriage. Vaishnavi and Rivan, my only friends, would have their own lives to live. I had no one.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I lowered my face into my lap, my shoulders trembling under the weight of my thoughts.

A soft knock on the door pulled me out of my misery.

"Beta, can I talk to you? Only if you're comfortable."

I lifted my tear-streaked face, startled by the gentle voice. Standing at the doorway was his mother. I blinked in confusion. What could she possibly want to talk about?

I hesitated but gave a small nod. She read my hesitation, yet, instead of stepping away, she walked toward me with a soft, reassuring smile. Sitting beside me, she folded her hands in her lap before speaking.

"I know, Saisha, that everything must feel difficult right now. The unfamiliarity, the fear—it must be overwhelming." Her voice was kind, understanding, unlike anything I had ever heard from my own mother. "But let me tell you something." She reached for my hand, her warmth seeping into my cold fingers. "You are safe here. You are respected. You are valued."

My lips quivered, and I struggled to meet her gaze. Why was she saying this? Was it just empty reassurance?

She gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "As much as I love my daughter, I will love you, my jaan."

A sharp intake of breath. A crack in my carefully built walls. No one—no one—had ever said those words to me before. A lump formed in my throat, and before I could stop them, silent tears slid down my cheeks.

She noticed. Without hesitation, she wrapped me in a warm, motherly embrace.

"Don't cry, Saisha." Her voice held a tenderness that shook me to my core. "I saw the look on your face throughout the function, and I knew what you must be feeling. Don't worry about anything, beta. I don't know what war you are fighting, but know this—you have got one more  mother now, one who loves you."

I clung to her, the embrace breaking something inside me—a loneliness, a sorrow I had carried for far too long. I hadn't realized how much I craved this warmth, this acceptance, until now.

After a moment, she pulled back, wiping away my tears with a motherly affection I had never known. "Rest now, my child. Tomorrow is a new day."

With that, she stood up and left, closing the door behind her.

For the first time in a long while, I felt a sliver of relief, a tiny spark of hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, this new world of mine wouldn't be as cruel as I had feared.

RITVIK's POV:

We made the proceeding to leave. Bhai and Bhabhi were busy taking blessings, their hands folded in respect, while I stood there, restless. My eyes scanned the hall, searching for her.

Vaishnavi.

After our last conversation, she had vanished into thin air, leaving me with an odd sense of incompletion.

And then, finally, I saw her.

Lil devil.

She stood near a pillar, arms crossed, her gaze fixed somewhere far away, lost in thought. But the moment her eyes met mine, she straightened, her posture turning firm and assertive. Without hesitation, she walked toward me.

Stopping just a breath away, she looked up at me with sharp eyes.

"What's your name, Mr. Khurana?" she asked, her voice steady, challenging.

A slow smirk curled on my lips. So we were playing it like that, huh?

"Ritvik it is, Miss Sharma," I replied smoothly, tilting my head slightly.

She hummed. No reaction. No flicker of amusement.

Instead, she took a deep breath, her expression turning serious.

"I need you to promise me something, Ritvik," she said.

Her voice had softened, but there was an undeniable weight in her words.

I frowned. "What is it?"

"Take care of Saisha. Please. Don't hurt her," she pleaded, her voice almost cracking at the end. "She's been through a lot. If you can't give her love and care, at least don't make it worse for her."

Her eyes welled up, and for the first time, I saw the raw depth of her emotions.

I could see it—the purity of love and the unbreakable bond she shared with her friend.

I exhaled and nodded. "I promise, Vaishnavi," I assured her, my tone softer than I intended. "And I told you earlier too—your friend is not being caged, she's being saved. Trust me."

She held my gaze for a few seconds, searching for something in my eyes. Then, she hummed again.

No more words.

No questions.

God, she was mesmerizing. And I—shameless as I was—found myself freaking drooling over her at a time when she needed comfort.

And just when I thought I had her undivided attention, a voice called her name.

"Vaishnavi!"

A guy.

Her head snapped toward the sound. Without even sparing me another glance, she turned and ran toward him.

Wait... what?

Who the hell was he?

Are they...?

Something inside me lit up. A slow burn. An emotion I refused to name.

Never.

Ritvik Khurana can be anything but jealous.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to look away, to focus on my family.

But it was impossible.

Ughh, Vaishnavi...

VIHAN's POV:

As we proceeded to leave, I noticed the last person Saisha made eye contact with—her mother. I had already known that her family was messed up, but witnessing it firsthand was another thing entirely. The way her mother merely gave her a formal hug, as if bidding farewell to an acquaintance rather than her own daughter, made my blood boil.

I clenched my jaw, suppressing the irritation flaring up inside me. Saisha needed more—she needed love, care, a family who actually gave a damn about her. And I knew, at this moment, that my family and I had to become that for her.

As we stepped out, I reached for her waist and pulled her closer. She choked on the sudden touch but didn't resist. She was too weak, too drained. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn't utter a word. The sight of her like this, fragile and hurting, made me feel utterly helpless. I wished I could erase all the pain she had endured, but for now, all I could do was be here.

I exhaled sharply, sending one last glare toward her so-called family before opening the car door for her. I helped her inside, making sure she was comfortable as she adjusted her heavy lehenga. My family was already set to leave for the airport, preparing for their  flight.

But for Saisha and me, a  our private jet awaited.

I slid into the driver's seat and stole a glance at her. She sat motionless, her expression blank, her eyes unfocused. She was exhausted—I could tell. Without a word, I reached back, grabbed a water bottle, and handed it to her.

She hesitated for a second before taking it, mumbling a quiet, "Thank you."

Silence filled the car again as I started driving. She didn't ask where we were going, didn't question why we weren't following my family. She was too drained to care.

When we arrived at the airport, I stepped out first and walked around to open her door. She followed my lead, her steps slow and cautious. But as she moved in the direction my family had gone, I caught her hand, stopping her.

"Not that way, jaan," I said gently.

She looked up at me, confusion flickering in her tired eyes.

"Our jet is waiting for us over there." I motioned toward the private section of the airport.

Her eyes widened in surprise. The exhaustion on her face didn't mask the momentary flicker of disbelief.

"A jet?" she whispered, blinking up at me.

I chuckled at her reaction. Even in her drained state, she was cute.

"Yes, Mrs. Khurana," I teased. "A jet. Just for us."

She stared for a moment before looking away, clearly trying to process everything. I didn't push her for a reaction, simply tightened my hold on her hand and led her toward our private flight.

One step at a time, Saisha. You're not alone anymore.

SAISHA's POV:

A private jet? My steps faltered as I stared at the luxurious aircraft waiting for us. I had expected a business-class ticket at best, but this... this was beyond anything I could have imagined. Was he really this rich?

Then I remembered—he had a deal with my dad. A business deal. Of course, he was wealthy.

I swallowed hard and followed him, but something about his tone from earlier lingered in my mind. It was soft, almost reassuring, as if he wanted me to feel at ease. But how could I?

I wasn't just traveling to Mumbai for a job anymore. I was heading there as Mrs. Khurana.

A shiver ran down my spine at the thought.

Suddenly, a hand landed on my waist, making me stiffen. My breath hitched, and my eyes darted to him. 

His grip was firm yet strangely gentle as he led me toward the jet. I wanted to resist, to step back and create distance, but fear kept me rooted. I was afraid—afraid of him, afraid of this marriage, afraid of what awaited me in Mumbai.

As we stepped inside, my eyes widened. The interior was nothing short of breathtaking—lavish cream-colored leather seats, a plush carpet that my heels barely made a sound against, soft golden lights illuminating the space like something straight out of a dream.

I barely realized I was staring until a soft chuckle broke the silence.

I turned, only to find him watching me with amusement. Heat crept up my neck. How embarrassing.

I quickly lowered my gaze, fidgeting with the hem of my dress. Before I could find something to say, he took my hand and guided me to a seat. His touch sent an unfamiliar sensation through me, a mix of unease and something I couldn't name.

"Sit," he murmured, pressing me down onto the plush seat.

I obeyed wordlessly, and to my surprise, he leaned in, adjusting my seatbelt himself. I froze, my breath held hostage by his proximity.

"No need to feel embarrassed, jaan," he said, his voice low and smooth. "This is as much yours now as it is mine."

Jaan? My heart stumbled over itself at the endearment.

I blinked at him, unable to form words, so I simply nodded. I didn't know if this was an act or reality, but his gentleness threw me off. He was supposed to be arrogant, cold—a businessman who married me for a deal.

And yet... here he was, speaking softly, treating me delicately, like I was something fragile.

"Take some rest," he continued, leaning back. "We'll reach Mumbai in about three to four hours."

Again, I could only hum in response. My mind was too cluttered with thoughts, questions, doubts. I barely noticed when he reached for something in his pocket.

But what happened next made my entire body go rigid.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my forehead.

My breath hitched. My fingers curled into the armrest.

He pulled back just slightly, his lips barely a whisper away. His dark eyes held something I couldn't decipher as he smirked.

"Good night, Mrs. Khurana."

I stared at him, my mind blank.

Did he just...?

I couldn't process it. Instead, I quickly turned my head, looking out of the window, hoping he wouldn't see the turmoil playing out on my face. The clouds outside blurred as thoughts swirled in my head.

What had I gotten myself into?

VIHAN'S POV:

As my lips parted from her forehead , her reaction visible . surprised.

I cursed internally for my actions ...i have to control myself or else it'll fear her or worse distant her from me.

"control vihan....controlll.."

my Mrs . Khurana. smirk still on my face.

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